In hindsight it was a bad idea.
The three that starts with “An idiot according to” is basically what it means. I gain a debuff when dealing with those people. The next set were fairly decent, is something I would say but at this point there was nothing decent about my titles.
[Once found a radish that looked like a sexy butt with legs]
You have not known peace since. Increased chance to detect rare, bizarre, fantastically weird items. Will roll perception checks whether you want to or not. Gains the buff [I Can’t Unsee That].
[Epic]I Can’t Unsee That
Once something strange is noticed, gain temporary advantage related to it.
[Googled “is dragon venom addictive?”]
Raised more questions than answers. This will not come up again. Probably. Still, at least you didn’t google ‘how to snort a Twinkie up your ass.’ Increased resistance to toxins and venoms (+25%) due to prior “research.” Gain warnings when exposed to addictive substances. Mental resilience increase (+25%) when exposed to mind-altering effects based on WILL.
[Might accidentally join a cult]
No chanting so far. This could go either way. Might ask zero questions. Might join not out of belief. When joining a cult, probability increase of receiving snacks. When joining a cult, probability increase of receiving robes. Detects ritual spaces and communal gatherings automatically. Gains buff [This Seems Fine].
[Epic] This Seems Fine
Gain temporary buffs while participating in group activities of questionable legitimacy.
<
I stared at the orb.
Then at the titles.
Then back at the orb.
“…Yeah.” I sighed. After reading them, now, I had more questions than when I started.
Before I could spiral further—
<
I stood up and let the domain dissolve, the stars folding inward as reality reasserted itself.
I’d tasked, or rather, asked politely if it could alert me whenever someone was about to talk to me. I hadn’t expected it to work. Good to know my newborn god-brain assistant could now function as a social radar.
Looks like I found something it, she, could do. Baby steps of course.
“Lord Vi, did you understand?” Celestia asked.
“Hm? Ah, no, sorry,” I replied easily. “I wasn’t listening. You were saying?”
I ducked just in time as the crazy nerd mage lunged for my ear.
“You have to start paying attention!” my father snapped. “This concerns you more than anyone here!”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, straightening. “I would’ve listened, if you all didn’t take your sweet ass time arguing in circles.”
Everyone had been debating—vigorously—what to do with the information I’d dumped on the table. Fifty-five thousand subclasses. A walking database with legs, opinions, and a distressing lack of political immunity.
With my active skill [True Sight Identification] it was bad enough, now with that obscene amount of system knowledge, I wasn’t just something anymore. My problem was I hadn’t planned for this, if only I had known earlier.
The knowledge of subclasses alone could reshape this country. Training regimens could be redesigned to target specific subclass awakenings. Entire units could be built around synergistic paths—stacking abilities, minimizing weaknesses, optimizing growth like a spreadsheet from hell.
Armies would become cleaner. Deadlier. Smarter. And anyone who controlled me controlled that edge.
Which meant favors. Poison. A knife in the dark. Or a polite smile followed by all three. In any order.
I scanned the room slowly—the king’s calculating silence, the queen’s narrowed gaze, the knights standing a little straighter now, like they were already imagining new drills.
Yeah. This wasn’t a debate anymore.
<
“Alright, Vi,” Arthur said, rubbing the back of his neck. “TLDR—none of us are telling anyone about your… general weirdness.”
“Thanks Art,” I replied dryly. “I feel safer already.”
“Lord Arthur,” Celestia cut in, tilting her head. “What does TLDR mean?”
“Oh—uh,” Arthur stalled for half a second. “It means too long, didn’t read. It’s an abbreviation. You use it when you want to shorten something. It’s like saying long story short but faster.”
Celestia nodded, eyes lighting up slightly, like she’d just learned a new combat spell.
“But,” Trayn continued smoothly, picking up where Arthur left off, “you don’t get to escape when it comes to our subclass selection. Some are choosing soon, and we’ll need your input.”
I felt it in my bones. The calm before the paperwork storm.
“Finally, You,” the queen said, already decisive. “Celes, Lady Reika, and Lady Shizuku will write down what you know. The four of you will be paid one gold per thousand entries completed.”
Yeah. There were two problems with that statement.
I lifted a finger and pointed back at the board, still covered in my illegible chalk crime against language. The queen followed my gesture, paused, and regarded it with the same expression one might reserve for abstract art made by a drunk raccoon.
“…Very well,” she said at last. “Correction. Celes, Lady Reika, and Lady Shizuku shall write. Lord Vi will dictate.”
“Right,” I said, already tired. “And when exactly did the three of them get a permanent free pass to loiter within my general vicinity?”
The queen hummed thoughtfully. “Around the time you were ill.”
“Rhetorical question,” I replied immediately. “And even if it wasn’t, I distinctly do not recall agreeing to this arrangement.”
“If you can convince or persuade them otherwise,” the queen said, smiling just a little too knowingly, “I will not interfere.”
I stared at her.
Then at Celestia—already flipping to a fresh page.
Then at Reika—pen spinning in her hand.
Then at Shizuku—smiling like this was going to be fun.
Oh, my self. That’s basically impossible!
<
I sighed, long and heavy, letting the sound carry more of my exasperation than it deserved. When I rose again, my back cracked in protest. The three women had already positioned themselves in front, pens at the ready, eyes gleaming with anticipation. My father and brother, had offered up their pens to Shizuku and Celestia.
Even now, Celestia was marveling at the function of it all since it was her first time she’d seen a writing instrument that didn’t require ink.
I slumped into my seat, a little more defeated than necessary. Everyone else lingered despite the hour, seemingly more curious than hungry, more interested in what I would say next than in anything practical.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I am not going to list that many from the common tier,” I grumbled. “A lot of them are like… baker or cook. Pretty standard.”
“Those will be for another time,” Celestia said, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “This will only be a preliminary inspection. If any class catches your eye, Lord Vi, feel free to voice it out.”
I nodded, rubbing my temples, and decided to dive straight into the rare tiers.
“Tamer—Birds, Tamer—Mammal, Fester, Leech.”
“Those last two,” Captain Aldric mused, brow furrowing. “Feels like they’re the skills the Reviled Lord used the most. But… as classes? Lord Vi, can you?”
I gave a faint nod and read them aloud, letting the words echo in the quiet room.
[Fester]
A master of decay and corruption, Fester thrives where rot takes hold. They are a living catalyst for entropy, channeling corruption to weaken their foes and empower themselves. Fester-based magic unlocked.
END +20, INT +20, WILL +20.
[Leech]
Leech draws strength from the vitality of others, sapping life, energy, and blood to sustain themselves. Leech-based magic unlocked.
STR +20, INT +20, WILL +20.
“Feels like it,” Captain Godwin muttered, scratching the back of his head. The other captains nodded grimly. “Especially with the associated magic unlocks.”
I took their silence as a tacit cue to continue.
The four elements were all there—fire, water, earth, air—along with weather patterns like rain and storm. There were even the four seasons, along with Celestia’s earlier example, the subclass of Gem.
“Hex, Song, Joy?” I asked. My eyes met those of the usual four people.
“BARD!” we all shouted at once.
Celestia blinked. The natives of this world blinked. Skeptical eyes all around.
“Lord Vi,” Celestia asked, tilting her head. “What is a bard?”
Really? There was no translation for bard?
“It’s a person who uses poems, sings in taverns and other establishments,” Arthur explained, trying to help.
“Oh! A minstrel,” Captain Godwin said, a mischievous glint in his tone.
“Harkest thou! Twa’s a time when fair lady—Celestia’s her name—Sang with such gusto, she set the heart of a minstrel aflame!” Captain Gendry sing-songed in exaggerated bardic fashion while his brother chuckled beside him. Captain Aldric, the king, and the queen all smiled at the spectacle. “His words cut like daggers—”
“Lord Vi!” Celestia demanded red in the face, cutting off the captain mid-verse. “Please continue!”
I nodded and went on, though not before filing that away for later.
“Wound, Hunter, Soldier, Meister, Feral, Grace, Mystic, Mage, Sorcerer, Rider, Cavalier, Flash, Prism, Mist, Cleanse, Rising, Metamorph, Blind, Perfume, Wail, Combustion, Lord, Toxin, Lucky, Tranquil, Invisible, Echo, Defense, Chain, Ash, Tech, Golem—”
I read aloud the classes that caught my attention, letting the words settle in the room. Then I paused at a few that intrigued me, weighing them carefully.
“A person can have five subclasses, right?” I asked Celestia, who nodded.
“Rain, crystal, green, botanist,” I said slowly, feeling the weight of potential, the pull of opportunity, the gaze of fate pressing down. “With these powers combined—”
I declared it with no small amount of glee: “I can grow weed! Boys, time to snort and get frothy on the Ganja!”
The usual four burst out laughing, nearly falling out of their chairs.
Then came a scraping sound.
“Wait, no, not the face!” I barely had time to react before my father had stood up, practically sprinted across the hall, and punched me.
<
I continued to the next tier, Epic, trying my best to ignore the sharp pain spreading across my left jaw. Every movement felt like tiny knives, but priorities, right? Subclasses first, pain later.
“Tamer-Amphibians, Tamer-Reptile, Tamer-Fish, Blood, Lightning, Wood, Life, Tempest, Force, Shadow, Veil, Bone, Battle, Night, Enchanter, the list went on.”
Some were classics, like Light and Dark, familiar and predictable. Others leaned toward the esoteric: Rune, Bane, Iron, Sand, Nether, Sound, Binder, Oracle, Adept, Polymorph, Rage, Desire, Silver, Tome. Tactician.
The variety hadn’t made my head spin, instead it distracted me from the pain. Besides with this much, I can distract myself from the fact that chocolate doesn’t exist in this world. I can read through all of it like an over glorified fanfic.
Then one made me pause.
[Pus]
The Pus subclass thrives in decay, infection, and contamination. Drawing power from the rot that others fear, its wielder manipulates disease, corruption, and the slow breakdown of life itself. Presence spreads malaise, weakening enemies and warping the battlefield, turning filth into a weapon. Those who command Pus walks the fine line between life and decomposition, commanding the very sickness that others flee.
Gains [Reviled Aura] within 50m
Gains [Weakening Aura] within 100m
Gains [Rotting Stench Aura] within 200m.
All skills under [Sickness] or [Disease] subclasses immediately apply the [Pus] modifier.
END +50, WILL +50
“Damn,” Trayn muttered, leaning back in his chair.
“And this is just the third tier?” Arthur said, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Tiers play a fairly large part,” Captain Gendry agreed while tapping his chin.
“Indeed,” Captain Aldric nodded gravely. “This is possibly one of the Reviled Lord’s subclasses. It would explain why he was so… unapproachable.”
“How did you even beat him?” Shun asked, wide-eyed. “Doesn’t seem like anyone could get close.”
“Fire,” the king said simply. His voice carried the weight of memory, and the room went silent. “The emperor of our neighboring country of Dalmara, back then, chose to sacrifice a city.”
Silence stretched, thick and heavy.
“They set fire to an entire city?” Haruto finally asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and horror. “As a trap? What about the people?”
The king’s expression darkened, lines of grief etched across his face.
“In order to make the trap believable, the citizens weren’t told,” he replied quietly.
I could hear several people swallow. That was grim. And yet, the logic was chillingly precise. Calculated cruelty wrapped in strategy. Let their country rot and allow people to get infected or sacrifice the few to save the many. A tough and hard decision all in one. In all honesty it was the kind of decision these would be heroes are expected to make. I do hope that when that time comes, they’ll be ready.
Still, I didn’t expect the subclasses and tiers to be more than just numbers or names—they were history, power, and blood all wrapped into one.
To liven the atmosphere—and maybe to keep us from collectively spiraling into existential dread—I didn’t wait for anyone to speak. I barreled straight ahead.
“Valor. Forest. Speed. Record. Dreams. Memory. Vow. Sacrament. Synthesis. Volcanic. Marionette. Bliss. Wraith. Solitude. Mania. Venom.”
By now, the words themselves came out easier, maybe because I was already in a rhythm. Still, we were skirting the edges of things that felt less like classes or jobs and felt more like… concepts. Abstracts made flesh.
Then I stopped. Four entries made my eyes linger longer than the rest.
[Advanced]
The Advanced subclass represents mastery beyond conventional limits.
+50 to stats based on the previous subclass.
+3 mastery to all skills related to the previous subclass.
+30% to skill mastery gain.
I tapped the plate lightly, more to ground myself than anything else.
“This implies you need another subclass first to get the full benefit,” I said. “It’s not standalone.”
“That is correct, Lord Vi,” Celestia replied immediately. “For example, if a knight obtained this, they would be designated as an [Advanced Knight] in their master Class.”
“My father was fortunate enough to receive that subclass,” the queen added calmly, though she had a look of melancholy.
“Then,” Yuuto asked slowly, “wouldn’t that mean he was an [Advanced Mage]?”
“Yes!” Celestia brightened instantly. “Grandfather Aurelian was an Advanced Mage! That subclass allowed him to rise to the top of our kingdom in the span of a few years!”
My eyes slid back to the list.
[Subtract]
Masters of removal and reduction, the Subtract class excels at stripping away obstacles, weakening foes. Their power lies in reduction—in removing what others cannot spare.
Gains the active skill [Subtract].
[Add]
The Add class embodies accumulation and enhancement, channeling power to augment allies and amplify forces beyond their natural limits.
Gains the active skill [Add].
Silence fell again. Not the heavy, grieving kind from earlier—but the sharp, brittle kind. The kind that came right before someone said, that sounds broken.
Shun finally voiced it. “What do those skills actually do?”
“Hold on,” I said, adjusting the plate, my fingers moving ever so slightly to select the option. “Let’s see if I can—there we go.”
[Epic] Subtract
Grants the ability to subtract stats, attributes, statuses, effects, and attacks (Physical and Magical) based on a percentage of the user’s stats. Percentage increases per mastery level.
[Epic] Add
Grants the ability to add stats, attributes, statuses, effects, and attacks (Physical and Magical) based on a percentage of the user’s stats. Percentage increases per mastery level.
No one laughed. It felt like no one breathed at all. The implications hung in the air like a guillotine blade that hadn’t decided whether or not to fall yet.
I rubbed my temple. “…Yeah. That’s about as stupidly powerful as it sounds.”
<
I didn’t argue. For once, my inner voice and I were in complete agreement.
“Wow,” Shun said at last, voicing what everyone else seemed too stunned to articulate. His face was caught somewhere between awe and concern. “Those, sound broken.”
“Agreed,” Yuuto added. “Having either one would already make someone ridiculously strong. Having both?” He shook his head. “That’s basically a cheat.”
“Stop saying that word,” I grumbled.
“The word… cheat?” Yuuto echoed, genuinely confused.
“Yes. That word,” I said, rubbing my temple. “I don’t like it.”
Before anyone could dogpile me, Taka leaned forward, eyes sharp behind his glasses. “Wait, Vi. It doesn’t show any extra information? No percentages per mastery level, nothing like that?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Blank. Which probably means you don’t get any more details until you actually own the skill.”
I scrolled again, letting the list continue its slow descent toward the bottom. That was when something familiar—or rather, unfamiliar in a familiar way—caught my eye. I had noticed a similar subclass in the previous tier and dismissed it at the time, but now, seeing this one, I was certain they were connected. Now I was curious.
“…Huh.”
I read it aloud.
[Duke]
The Duke class commands authority and presence, embodying leadership on and off the battlefield. They inspire allies, impose order, and manipulate the flow of conflict.
Gains [Castellan’s Command Aura] within designated castle.
STR+20 AGI+20 INT+40
[Castellan’s Command Aura]
Grants a percentage increase to Strength, Agility, and Endurance while within the area of effect.
Arthur blinked. “Within a designated castle?”
The room collectively glanced around, as if the stone walls themselves might answer.
“Um—Your Highness,” my brother said carefully, turning to the king. “How… wide is the castle?”
The king’s lips twitched, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, not very big,” he said lightly. “Just a few hectares.”
A few. Hectares.
“…Right,” I said slowly. “There’s a similar subclass in the previous tier called [Lord]. I would assume nearly the same but less powerful. But, if someone with that subclass decides to turtle up, good luck digging them out.”
“Vi,” the young princess piped up, tilting her head while raising a hand. “What’s a turtle?”
“Oh—um,” I fumbled, already pulling out my phone on reflex. “A turtle is a small creature with a dome-shaped, protective round shell covering its body. It can retract its head, limbs, and tail fully into the shell, minimizing exposed weak points. In that defensive position, the turtle can anchor itself to the ground, resisting attempts to flip or dislodge it, and creating a temporary fortress capable of surviving until danger passes.”
I scrolled, found a picture, and showed it to her.
Her eyes lit up. “It’s cute!”
“…Okay,” I said shrugging.
<
…Yeah. Today was really not slowing down, was it. And we still have two more tiers to go.